Tookishness is Genetic
by Applesauce and Chocolate
Summary: This is a ficlet about Sam, written for a Math project for Pi Day (March 14--3.14). They said we could do anything as long as it had some math in it. So ignore the math, enjoy the fic.


A/N: This story is dedicated to Mr. Kennedy ;-)

Disclaimer: I own nothing that belongs to Tolkien or Pythagoras, I only honor thier work.

**Tookishness is Genetic**  
  
"Peregrin Took, of all the childish, foolish things you've ever done, this has got to be the worst!"  
  
Master Meriadoc of Buckland was not pleased. He paced Brandy Hall as he raved, tentatively watched by his wife Estella, Mayor Samwise and his wife Rosie, and also Diamond Took, the wife of Pippin. Standing before him, looking for all the world like an admonished child, stood the Thain of Tookland.  
  
"Forty-five years old, and still you act like a young hobbit," Merry continued. "How is it, that a bridge the Brandybucks have kept standing for more than a thousand years is torn down by a Took in less than a minute?"  
  
Pippin winced, but said nothing, knowing he would only make things worse. It was almost as though he was used to being chastised by his elder cousin.  
  
"Where did the fireworks come from anyway?" Merry stopped pacing to look at Pippin.  
  
"I..." Pippin hesitated. "I made them." He grimaced, prepared for whatever reprimand he was about to receive.  
  
"You?"  
  
"Yes. They were supposed to be a surprise! For Strider—I mean, King Elessar," said Pippin, taking advantage of the moment to explain himself, and possibly soften Merry up. "Remember how we always used to steal Gandalf's fireworks, Merry? Remember the fun we had?"  
  
"I remember the trouble you got me into," said Merry sternly. "Apparently you don't."  
  
Pippin resumed looking ashamed of himself. So much for softening.  
  
"What I want to know," said Diamond, speaking up, "is how Faramir got ahold of them." She looked pointedly at her husband.  
  
"Yes, Pippin, how did your son get your fireworks?" asked Merry with a smirk.  
  
"I didn't give them to him, honest!"  
  
Master Samwise held up a hand. "Now, my dear hobbits, let's not start arguing. The important thing at present is fixing the Brandywine Bridge, not pointing fingers."  
  
"Sam's right, Merry," said Estella.  
  
"Yes," Merry agreed, calming himself down. "Even if he did blow up the Brandywine Bridge," he added under his breath.  
  
"Right," said Sam, rubbing his hands together. "The King's due the day after tomorrow, so we'd best get started."  
  
"There's just one problem," said Merry, beginning to pace again. "None of us know about bridge building. Repairing the old Bridge was one thing, replacing it is totally different."  
  
"Half a minute!" cried Sam, somewhat indignantly. "I do know a bit about bridge making. Old Mr. Bilbo used to build model bridges with me when I was a lad. I still have a few of them. There's not much too it, when you know what you're doing, if you understand me," Sam said modestly.  
  
"Well, that's good enough for me," said Pippin.  
  
Merry looked a little annoyed at Pippin, but nodded in agreement. "Let's get started."  
  
The hobbits trekked outside to examine what used to be the Brandywine Bridge. Many Brandybucks had crowded around it, but, as soon as they saw him, they demanded an explanation from the Master of Brandy Hall.  
  
Merry was overwhelmed by questions like, "Has that old troublemaker Gandalf returned?" or "Is there a new wizard in the Shire?" Indeed, Gandalf seemed to be the chief suspect.  
  
"No, no, not at all. Friends!" he said to get their attention. Merry was quite good at this, as he nearly a foot taller than everyone else there—except Pippin of course. "Friends, what has happened today was an accident, not an act of wizardry. It was caused by my young second cousin here," said Merry, bringing Faramir Took to the front of the throng. "But surely he cannot be blamed."  
  
Fortunately, Faramir was quite an adorable hobbit-lad, and many hobbits felt their anger slowly ebb away upon seeing his large brown eyes and unruly curls.  
  
"Faramir, of course, has been duly scolded," Merry went on, "and construction of a new Bridge shall begin immediately. The King is arriving in two days, and we shall welcome him properly, not shout to him across the river. I need all able volunteers to bring any tools you have. We must all work together to get our Bridge back."  
  
The hobbits applauded—as they usually did after Merry spoke to them in large groups—and some went to fetch tools. Most went to fetch food.  
  
When they all came back, the first thing to be done was to tear down the ruined remains of the Bridge while trying to salvage as much of the wood as possible. When this task was finished, Merry went to Sam.  
  
"Now, where do we start?"  
  
Sam scratched his head. "First we need to figure out how long the bridge will be."  
  
Sam stooped down to pick up a small stone before walking to the edge of the river where the bridge was to begin. He put his hand on his brow as if to shade his eyes so that he could not see beyond the opposite bank. He then made a neat quarter-turn, not removing his hand. Skillfully, he tossed the stone to the spot he could see. Then, placing one foot directly in front of the other, he counted the paces to the rock.  
  
"I reckon it's about 80 feet," he said. "So we'll need eight beams, 40 feet long."  
  
Merry nodded, and pointed at two hobbits. "Doderic, Berilac, why don't you take that job."  
  
Merry's cousins bowed their heads in agreement, and set to work.  
  
"Now we must find out how deep the water is," said Sam, "and how far it is between the base of the bridge and the water."  
  
"What do we need to know that for?" asked Pippin.  
  
"There will be a supporting beam that will divide the bridge in half, and we'll need to know how long to make it," Sam explained.  
  
So Sam sent Merry to the middle of the river in a boat with two beams of wood: one that was 40 feet, and another that was much longer. Sam held one end of the 40-foot board to ensure that Merry was in the middle. Merry took the other board and passed it to Pippin, who was waiting at the top of where the bridge would begin. Pippin held the beam firmly on the ground, and marked with his knife the place where it intersected with land. Then he pulled the board all the way up and measured it to his mark.  
  
"It's 50 feet," he called to Sam.  
  
Sam thought for a moment, scribbling on a piece of paper.  
  
'Think, Sam,' he said to himself. 'What are you trying to get?'  
  
He, Merry, and Pippin had made a triangle, and he was trying to figure the distance between himself and Pippin.  
  
'Now, what did Mr. Bilbo tell me about triangles?' he asked himself, trying to remember. 'Oh! One short side times itself plus the other times itself equals the long one times itself.'  
  
But only if there's a perfect corner, Sam! Bilbo's voice echoed through Sam's head. There would be a perfect corner (Bilbo's word for a right angle) formed by the base of the bridge and the 40-foot board once it was built. Sam worked the numbers on his paper, just as Bilbo had shown him.  
  
40 x 40 x = 50 x 50 1600 x = 2500 -1600 -1600 x = 900  
  
'Noodles,' he thought. 'This is the part I always got stuck on.'  
  
You just have to think about it, came Bilbo's voice.  
  
After he thought for a moment, he remembered that 3 x 3 was 9, so 30 x 30 must be 900. So the distance he needed was thirty feet. Without really knowing it, Sam was using the Pythagorean Theorem to find the length of a leg.  
  
Next, Sam had Merry check the depth of the water.  
  
"Eight feet," came the answer.  
  
'Now, think,' Sam told himself. 'That'll be 38 feet from the bridge to the ground, plus another two feet underground for support.'  
  
"We'll need two more 40 foot beams, Merry," Sam said aloud. "One for each side of the bridge." Sam's plan was to ensure that this new bridge would last another thousand years, so he was supporting it as much as possible.  
  
Merry gave this assignment just as the first few completed boards were arriving.  
  
"Good," said Sam. "Those will go in the middle to support the bridge."  
  
Merry nodded. "Ilberic! We need to put these two pieces into the ground!"  
  
"Two feet deep and five feet apart," Sam added.  
  
It took four hobbits and two boats to get this done, and by the time it was accomplished, the hobbits were quite hungry. They had begun working just after elevensies, but now it was already past lunchtime. Many hobbits slowly left the worksite, but Sam only paused for a bite before retuning to work.  
  
By the time Merry came out, he had secured supporting beams to the walls of the bank.  
  
"Don't you ever stop working, Sam?" Merry said incredulously.  
  
"Oh, Merry, I'm glad you're here. I need you to put these on the other side, as I'm not too keen on boats, if you take my meaning."  
  
"That I do, Sam," said Merry laughing. He got into his boat and did as Sam instructed.  
  
When the rest of the hobbits arrived, they were ready to construct the bridge on land. This was fairly easy, once assembly lines were organized. One half of the bridge was built on each side of the river.  
  
It took the hobbits the rest of the afternoon to finish and the next morning they had before them the task of putting all the pieces together.  
  
For this part, Sam did not have much to do besides supervise. He helped make sure the bridge was level with his balance, but for the most part this was where his expertise lacked. Merry was more skilled with hammers and nails.  
  
The bridge was almost complete by dinnertime on the second day. It was usable and quite sturdy, if not entirely safe considering the railings had not yet been added.  
  
The King arrived the next morning, just as they were adding the finishing touches. He came in a horse-drawn cart with the Lady Arwen sitting beside him. Getting out, he bowed to the hobbits and they did likewise.  
  
"My friends!" Aragorn said with a smile. "Too long have we been apart. Come! Sit with me for a time. We will smoke while you tell me all that is happening in the Shire."  
  
Sam, Merry and Pippin accepted this invitation heartily and brought out their pipes as they joined Aragorn by his cart. Pippin, however, was having a bit of difficulty lighting his pipe.  
  
"Curse this wind," he muttered, moving closer to the cart to avoid the gusts. Unfortunately, he got a bit too close.  
  
With a small explosion, part of the King's cart went up in flames. Merry sighed, and exchanged weary glances with Sam.  
  
"Well," Sam said, "I guess we've got another thing to fix."

* * *

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! I got an A on it, so it can't be that bad. Please, review and tell me what you think! (By the way, only saying "that rocked" or "this is dumb" does not constitute telling me what you think. I'd very much like to know why it was either good or bad. And if you'd like me to take you seriously, please attempt to use proper grammar.) In the words of a great hobbit, "Thag you very buch." 


End file.
